We were requested to conduct some manœuvres for the purpose of familiarizing the Russian officers and crew with the method of handling the boat. Admiral Rodjevensky's fleet was outfitting off Cronstadt, preparing to start for the Orient. As the officers of the battle squadron had never seen a submarine in operation, we were requested to conduct our manœuvres in their vicinity. One of the high Russian admirals, whom I afterward met at the officers' club in Cronstadt, said to me: "Mr. Lake, I do not like your submarine boat. One can never tell where it is going to bob up, and I think if you were my enemy I should slip my anchor and run." After manœuvring around the fleet at anchor we took a run out in the channel. Captain Alexander Gadd, the officer who was to command the Protector, was in the sighting hood. Our periscope had gone "blind" because one of the crew did not make up a joint properly. Water had entered and dropped on the lower prism, which destroyed our ability to see. We were anxious, however, to continue our manœuvres, and Captain Gadd had volunteered to "con" the vessel from the sighting hood and give us our steering directions. We were thus able to make submergences of short duration. In leaving the port we appeared to have a clear passageway down the channel. After running for a few minutes we brought the sighting hood above the surface, upon which Captain Gadd became very much excited and cried out in German—which I had no difficulty in understanding—that a big ship was coming right toward us. I was puzzled to know what to do, so I pulled the commander away from the sighting hood, got a look myself, and discovered a big white ship headed directly for us. The only thing to do under the circumstances was to blow the centre tank, give the signal to back up, and to blow our whistle, as there was hardly sufficient time to turn out of our course. Blowing the centre tank relieved us very quickly of sufficient water to bring the conning tower above the surface. Fortunately we were observed, and both vessels reversed and went full speed astern, thus preventing a collision which only could have been disastrous to us, because, as there was not sufficient depth of water in the channel to permit the large ship to pass over us, the small boat would have been crushed like an egg-shell. By looking at the chart I saw that we had sufficient water on either side of the main channel to carry on our work of instructing the crew, so I instructed the quartermaster, in English, to change his course. Captain Gadd, not understanding English, was not aware that I had changed the course, and I did not know that mines had been planted for the defense of Cronstadt and Admiral Rodjevensky's fleet, so the next time we came to the surface Captain Gadd once more became very much excited, finally making me understand that we were in a mine field. It seems that the Russians feared the Japanese might by hook or crook, during the night or at a time of fog, which at that time of the year occurred frequently, get hold of some vessel, equip her with torpedoes, and make a raid on the fleet at anchor. Consequently they had mined all except the principal channel, which could be watched. We immediately stopped the Protector, blew tanks, and proceeded with caution back to the main channel and returned to Cronstadt. I felt that we had had sufficient manœuvres for that day at least.
Another experience which came very close to a tragedy was brought about by the spirit of mischief of one of the trial officers while conducting the official trials of the Protector in the Gulf of Finland. One of the trial conditions set by the Russian Government was that we were to be able to run the Protector under her engine with her decks submerged and conning tower awash, I standing in the open hatchway with the Protector running under these conditions, ready for instant submergence, her conning tower being held above the surface by setting her hydroplanes up. By pulling the hatch cover down and inclining the hydroplanes downward the vessel could be almost instantly submerged—submergence not occupying over fifteen seconds. I had so much confidence in the safety of the Protector running in this condition that I did not hesitate to leave the depth-control mechanism for considerable periods of time.
During this official trial in the Gulf of Finland we ran through a school of small fish, and, leaving the hydroplane control gear, I went out upon the deck of the conning tower and watched the fish, which could be plainly seen as the Protector passed through them. At this time there was about three feet of water over the decks, and the deck of the conning tower was about a foot or eighteen inches out of the water. All at once the Protector started to go down. I jumped down inside the conning tower, pulling the hatch after me, and I am free to confess that my hair stood on end. I then observed that the Protector had gone back to her normal condition, and saw at the same time that the senior Russian officer, a very tall man who had to stand in a stooping position in the conning tower, was shaking with laughter. Captain Gadd then explained to me that the other officer—I shall not mention his name, because he is now a high admiral—had "set" the hydroplanes a little down for the purpose of seeing if he could frighten me. He frightened me all right, and I assure you that I never ran the Protector afterward in that condition, because I came to the conclusion that, while it might be possible to make a submarine fool-proof, one could never make reasonable calculations which would eliminate danger from the actions of the practical joker. It was only a few weeks after this incident that I read the account of the A-8, one of the diving type of boats in the British Navy, making the fatal dive when running on the surface with the hatch open, even though she had, according to the testimony of the officer, who was standing on the top of the conning tower at the time she went down—and drowned her crew—as much as six or eight tons reserve of buoyancy.
Some of the early boats of the diving type were fitted with fixed periscopes through which one could see in one direction only, and that straight ahead, and with a limited field of vision. In order to get a complete view of the horizon it was therefore necessary for the commander of a vessel equipped in this way to turn the boat completely around. This was the cause of the first serious accident and loss of life in the British submarines of the A type. The A-1, running in the English Channel with her periscope extended above the surface, did not see a steamer following her at a speed exceeding her own; the lookout of the steamer did not see the periscope, and ran the A-1 down, drowning her entire crew. The foolishness of having a periscope that could see in one direction only was demonstrated by some of the officers in the Austrian Navy. Our company had built the first two boats for the Austrian Government, U-1 and U-2. Another type of boat had been built later which had only a fixed periscope of the type described. One day, when this submarine was running along with her periscope above the surface, which gave her commander no vision back of him, some officers approached in a speedy little launch and left their cards tied to the periscope without the knowledge of the commander of the submerged vessel. This demonstrated perfectly that it is essential, both in war and peace times, for the commander of the submarine to know what is going on in his vicinity on the surface. With the noise of machinery running it was difficult in the early boats for the commander to tell whether there was any other power boat in the vicinity of the submarine. That fact led to the practice of running mostly with the periscope above the surface, and eventually to the introduction of two periscopes, one to con the course of the ship and the other to keep watch of the surrounding water to see that other ships do not approach the submarine unawares. That is now the usual practice in peace-time manœuvres.
At Hampton Roads, on one occasion, after a submarine run, we came up under a small launch and picked her up bodily on the deck. We had not seen the boat until we heard her bump against the conning tower and heard some of the ladies scream. We submerged quickly and lowered them into the water again. Another time we came up under a large barge, but all the damage incurred was a broken flagstaff. The best mode of procedure at such times is to bring the vessel to rest while submerged and stop all machinery, then listen for the sound of the machinery of surface vessels. These noises can be heard for a considerable distance under water. If no sound is heard it is then safe to come up. Even in this case there is some possibility of coming up under or just in front of a sailing vessel. One has to take some chances, and I do not consider this taking any greater chance than is taken by the navigator of a surface vessel in running in a fog or in a snow storm.
The question of air supply was at one time one of the most difficult problems to solve on paper with which early experimenters with submarines had to contend. There was no exception in my case. I thought it would be possible to remain submerged only a short time unless I provided some sort of apparatus to extract the carbonic acid gas and restore oxygen to the air after breathing and exhaling the air in an enclosed space like a submerged vessel. I took up the question with various physicians and with a professor of physiology at Johns Hopkins University, and, according to their information and text-books, it would be a very difficult matter to carry sufficient air to remain submerged without change of air except for a very short time. Their text-books stated the quantity of free air that should be allowed per individual. This varied from fifteen hundred to three thousand cubic feet of air per individual per hour. It would be impossible to provide this amount of air in a submarine. What it was essential to discover was how little air a man could live on without suffering ill effects. I then built a box containing twenty-seven cubic feet of air space. I entered this and was hermetically sealed within it. At fifteen-minute intervals I lighted matches to note how freely they would burn. At the expiration of three-quarters of an hour the matches still burned brilliantly at the top of the box, but went out when lowered to about the level of my waist. This indicated that about one-half of the oxygen had been consumed and converted into carbonic acid gas. I was surprised to find how distinctly the line was drawn between the air containing oxygen and that containing the heavier carbonic acid gas. I concluded from this experiment that from fifteen to twenty cubic feet of air per individual per hour was sufficient to maintain life for short periods of time without injury.
On completing the Argonaut in 1897 we amplified these experiments, five men remaining hermetically sealed in the Argonaut for a period of five hours without admitting any air from our air storage tanks, and later on in the Protector eight men remained submerged for twenty-four hours, no fresh air being admitted during the first twenty hours. As the volume of air space in the Protector was about three thousand cubic feet, this averaged about eighteen cubic feet per man per hour. Without the definite knowledge of my previous box experiment it is very doubtful if the crew would have consented to remain submerged so long without renewing the air supply, so great is the effect of imagination.
In our first test to determine a practical time of submergence in 1897 we had been submerged for nearly two hours when I noticed some members of the crew showing signs of distress. After a time they got together in the after part of the boat and appointed a spokesman, who came to me and asked if I had not noticed that breathing had become very difficult. They urged that we should go up immediately. By this time two of the men were breathing with evident exertion, and beads of perspiration were on their faces. I told them they were suffering from imagination, and explained my experiment with the box. I then took a candle and proved to them that it burned freely in all parts of the boat. We measured the height of the candle flame at the floor of the boat and found it one and five-eighths inches high. In the twenty-four hours' test on the Protector the men became frightened in the same way, but after an explanation had been made and the candle demonstration had been shown them they lost their fear and in a few minutes all were breathing as normally as ever.